


Last steps to forever

by sumiya



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assassins & Hitmen, Character Death, M/M, Minor Violence, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumiya/pseuds/sumiya
Summary: There was a legend, passed down from generation to generation, which told the comforting story of being destined to another for life. Soulmates. The perfect match for you, signalling a sickening happily-ever-after story.  But, as with everything, there was a catch (there was always a catch in life).  There was only one way to know you’d met your soulmate, and it was their last words imprinted on your wrist for the rest of your life (there was always a catch in life and fate was a bitch, Niou knew this from firsthand experience).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nommonkeypie (Tessa_Harrison)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessa_Harrison/gifts).



> Thank you so very fucking much N and C for being so encouraging and awesome. Without your help and support, I wouldn’t have done it <33333
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like it, Tessa!

 

 

Honestly, if you asked Niou, hitman was not on the top list of jobs he wanted to take. Astronaut, internationally renowned hacker, porn star, and even tennis player had been higher up in his options. Ten years ago, this wasn’t even in the list of crimes he wanted to commit. Bank fraud? Sure, fun and easy. Corporate espionage? What's a corporation _without_ spying? It even had its perks, getting to fuck with the rich and prestigious. Hell, even a little bit of assault was okay. Dangerous, yeah, but it had a challenging charm. But even then, only if it was another criminal and the guy deserved it.

But Niou really disliked when he was forced to take on contract killing.

Fact of the matter was: he was late on two down-payments on his apartment, his utilities and his college debt, the heater had broken in the middle of the fucking winter, he was a really crack shot, and contract killing was always something that people wanted and were willing to pay big bucks on. Niou did his job and he got a big fat deposit in his bank account. It was a messy job and it didn’t have medical insurance, but it was enough.

His boss, ‘The Child of God’, called the shots (Niou was sure it was a ‘he,’ even if he had never actually met the guy). He was fair to an extent? Either he had some sense of justice or a mile-long sadist streak, since he always sent Niou files about the target’s background and how they had fucked with the wrong people, the very rich people that could pay to snuff them out. It wasn’t necessary; Niou would do the job if he got paid enough and on time, but it made the job easier. For Niou, if you fucked with the wrong people, you weren’t a good person yourself.

Niou just wished the job had been somewhere less...cold.

Gripping the windowsill tightly, Niou edged around underneath the small one-bedroom house. He wasn't being paid to think about things, but it felt seriously weird for his target to be a guy only a couple of years older than Niou, who lived in a small one bedroom flat and was working to become a lawyer. Sure, if he was a successful lawyer working on a high-profile case, this whole thing would make a whole lot of sense, but Tezuka Kunimitsu, was, to all intents and purposes, currently at the level of coffee-guy. This assassination didn't make any sense to Niou.

But then again. He wasn't being paid to do anything except kill the guy. So, with that in mind, Niou silently swung himself up and into the window of the man in question.

The lights of the small study room were on, and Niou arched an eyebrow at the evident mess on the table, lots of books and sheets everywhere; he was totally not judging, but it looked even worse than Akaya’s bedroom. From what he had read on the file, Tezuka seemed like the person that would keep everything in pristine working order, if his academic record was anything to go by. Most of the files and books looked German and Niou didn’t understand shit about them, upon picking one up and examining it closely.

There was the sound of water running in the bathroom and Niou tensed, moving stealthily away from the desk and towards the wall to hide in the shadows. He pulled his butterfly knife from his back pocket and held it tight. Stabbing someone was easy but always proved a messy kill, and it was definitely not his favorite method to do the job. It was tiresome and unpredictable, people thrashing and screaming and biting him when he covered their mouth with his hand (it had happened once). Still, it was the best coverup for a death near a university; a knife crime could be explained away by any multitude of reasons. A passionate dispute gone wrong, a burglar, another guy that broke down after being the second-best again.

The target came into view. He was a thin wiry guy, with serious glasses and emotionless eyes, and Niou saw him just long enough to jump on him, one arm restricting his airway and the other one plunging the knife fast and deep into his target’s side. Tezuka struggled hard under his grasp, and Niou gave him lots of credit for it, but Niou was stronger and more prepared and after buckling Tezuka's knees, it was easy to tighten his grip and squeeze the air out of Tezuka as he bled to death. At least Niou wouldn’t have to see him die, face to face.

The target went limp and Niou released his hold, stare cold and detached as the body fell heavily to the floor. The man was still breathing, if raggedly. He was fighting death and Niou couldn’t leave until he was certain it was done. Niou turned away, not wanting to face the ugly side of his job and started trashing the apartment at the best of his abilities, spreading a wave of controlled chaos, to make it look like a fight had taken place.

“I let my guard down.”

It had been a low whisper, and Niou almost missed it, immersed as he was in the controlled chaos he was creating. But he didn’t and his head snapped to the dying guy behind him. Glasses screwed and blood dripping by his chin, Niou saw him closing his eyes and going limp with the inevitable arrival of death.

Niou paged ‘The Child of God’ once, signaling that he had succeeded, before he left the small apartment.

He didn’t turn back to give the pooling blood another glance.

 

 

 

Niou slipped in the shower that night, hands flying to try and stop him from falling. He took a deep breath that didn’t reach his lungs, that didn’t calm his racing heart. The water kept on tumbling over him, making his vision blurry and his body scorch with the heat. With a shaking hand, he reached out to trace the letters on his skin.

There, on his pale wrist, the words ‘ _I let my guard down_ ’ shone in stark contrast, the black ink almost glowering accusatorily at him.

“Shit.”

 

 

 

There was a legend, passed down from generation to generation, which told the comforting story of being destined to another for life. Soulmates. The perfect match for you, signalling a sickening happily-ever-after story. But, as with everything, there was a catch (there was always a catch in life). There was only one way to know you’d met your soulmate, and it was their last words imprinted on your wrist for the rest of your life (there was always a catch in life _and_ fate was a bitch, Niou knew this from firsthand experience).

 

 

 

Niou drank his coffee silently. It tasted way too sweet, and way too creamy and way too hot on his tongue. Niou almost thought he loved it, but who would trust him about the definition of love, since he had killed his soulmate for money?

“Are you alright?” Yagyuu asked. He’d always been observant and critical and he knew Niou the best, after all.

“Peachy,” Niou shrugged. He was alright, really. There were people that freaked out about the soulmate thing, but the whole thing was a huge scam. You should be allowed to choose who to love. Also, who the hell would get a kick out of the fucked-up system of soulmating? What was the use of dreading not being with your soulmate? Niou didn’t know what was worse; to find out your significant other’s last words were not written on your skin, after all you went through together and feeling like you wasted your life with them _or_ the sick pleasure of actually having their name written because you chose right.

Yagyuu teared the cup out of Niou clammy fingers, gently. “Masaraharu,” Yagyuu said softly but firmly and he had used Niou’s first name. Shit. There was no way around it, now. “Talk to me.”

Niou looked down.

“Masaharu.”

Niou rolled up his sleeve and looked away, not wanting to see Yagyuu’s expression, not his hurt nor his pity.

“When did this happen?”

“Two nights ago.”

“Two nights ago…. Weren’t you on a job two nights ago?”

Niou didn’t reply and Yagyuu gasped. “Jesus…. Niou, are you alright?”

“Peachy.”

 

 

 

Baby Jesus, aka the Child of God, aka his shit of a boss that had unknowingly sent him to kill his soulmate, had decided he was not fitted for the job for a while. So Niou got a month hiatus. Niou also got a few missed calls from Yagyuu (but he had ratted him out to the boss, so he could go and fuck himself–literally).

 

 

 

  
Niou found a German magazine inside one of the pockets of his ‘work jacket’ on his third day of work hiatus. Vacations, Yagyuu had called it in a text message. Niou had forgotten all about it, after snatching it from Tezuka’s house the day he had killed him. Niou still didn’t know German, but he could pay attention to the pictures of fishes and lakes. They were soothing, he guessed.

 

 

 

The silence in Niou’s apartment was deafening. Niou hadn’t been able to sleep all night. He hated this. He turned his stereo on and put it on full blast, before pressing play. _Guess who’s back. A-yo pop, We did it again man_. Niou wondered how long would it take for an angry neighbor to come and yell at him. His bet was on the fat guy in apartment 304. Fuck them, it was already 7am. If anything, Niou was doing a social service, acting as an alarm clock and quality music provider.

_I’m very very good_.

 

 

 

On the fifth day, Niou broke into Tezuka’s apartment for the second time. It was the first time he had ever come back to a crime scene. The place was clean, but most of Tezuka’s possessions were there. Probably the wound from his absence was still too raw for the family to take care of it.

Niou took some souvenirs back home.

 

 

 

By the tenth day of Niou’s hiatus, he knew quite a bit about Tezuka Kunimitsu. It wasn’t the type of ‘useful’ information his boss had sent over with his file, but Niou thought it was important information. Very Important.

He had used to play tennis, and had been probably ripped under that pajama shirt Niou had seen him in. It also explained his stamina when he had tried to release himself from Niou’s hold. He liked fishing and hiking and spoke German (or found the pictures in the german magazines soothing anyway, just like Niou). He ate healthily, since there had not been a single piece of remnant of snacks or alcohol in his house. He had been blind as fuck (Niou had found a spare set of glasses, and discovered he was blinder than Yagyuu). He liked The Godfather movies and had the whole collection. Tezuka had owned a bonsai tree, named it Marilyn and even got it engraved on her pot. Cute. Marilyn now lived on Niou’s windowsill. Guess it was the least he could do.

Tezuka was apparently well-loved, if the pictures he’d snatched were anything to go by. He always appeared to be frowning or posing with a blank and stoic expression, which Niou called ‘the Toastka’, but his friends around him were all smiling and playful, so probably the guy was a just bit shy and not really into being with people, even if he loved them dearly back.

 

 

 

Just like Niou.

 

 

 

Niou made a list. It had the five things he thought Tezuka liked the most. Tennis. Hiking. Fishing. Old people. Law. Niou had two weeks before returning to work. It should have been enough.

 

 

 

Tennis seemed the easiest to start with. It was just a sport. A sport with a ball, like pretty much all the sports out there. Niou vaguely remembered even attending some of his high school tennis matches and knew some of the rules. It shouldn’t be that hard, piece of cake. Niou even had a decent polo shirt for it.

He booked a private court and a private tennis instructor to learn the basics from, the next day. The private courts were fancy; filled with snobby little shits and too many fashion statements. It took him five minutes to locate his instructor, who turned out to be a tiny little _savage_ thing that not only made Niou run until he almost thought his legs would fall off, but also _ran_ them with him. Niou had booked the court for three hours that turned into five because the little shit of instructor, Shishido, didn’t let Niou get away with half-assed shots and returns, and wouldn’t stop until Niou got a hold on them.

Niou learned, after crawling home after his so-called ‘beginners lesson’, that tennis was a sport from hell and played by crazy people. He also learned that even if you felt like your limbs would fall out from your body, they didn’t and that was even a greater agony. Fucking hell. Niou sighed and let himself melt under the soothing heat of a scalding shower that felt like liquid bliss on his sore muscles. Yes, tennis was only for the crazy ones. Determined, hard-working kind of crazy, even if snobby as shit.

 

 

 

Niou lost two days after that, too sore to do stuff without being moody. He stayed in, wearing only a pair of boxers and an oversized shirt and eating instant noodles. He talked to Marilyn some, too. It gave the whole deal a really domestic vibe. Niou would have laughed if somebody had even suggested he would do something like this (it had happened before, Yagyuu didn’t learn), but truth to be told, it wasn’t that bad. He didn’t even remember when the last time he’d done something like this, where he spent so much time in his apartment.

 

 

  
Niou had only twelve days left of his hiatus, so he started moving again. That, and the fact that he had nothing else to eat in his apartment. He went grocery shopping. Niou brought home some canned food and bottled water, too. Niou texted Yagyuu when he came back home; he said it was okay to borrow his tent and hiking boots. Yagyuu also asked if Niou was drugged out of his mind.

Niou told him he was (he wasn’t, but that was less embarrassing than admitting he was attempting _to hike_ , out of all things).

 

 

 

Hiking wasn’t a bad idea. It was a fucking _horrible, idiotic_ idea. Niou shivered and wrapped the blanket around him tighter. Why couldn’t his soulmate be into like kinky bondage sex or some weird-ass shit like that? Niou was _freezing_ , he was sure his _bones_ were soaked (fucking storm had come out of nowhere and put out the fire Niou spent _hours_ trying to get to work properly), and he was almost sure he heard a bear outside. There was another rustling sound and Niou swore that if he died by bear, he was going to hunt down Tezuka’s ghostly ass and stab him again.

 

 

  
Even when covered with a blanket in the safety of his apartment and a lukewarm coffee in his hands, Niou kept on shivering. He had already taken a hot shower, trying and failing to stay warm. The mountain’s cold had embedded itself deep inside his bones and wouldn’t go away, no matter what he did. Tezuka was definitely either insane or had the internal temperature of a space heater, to survive and _enjoy_ that.

Suddenly, the image of cuddling next to Tezuka in the middle of nowhere, with a bear outside the tent, popped up in his mind, and it was both hilarious and pathetically sad. Niou tried to remember if Tezuka had felt that warm when he had struggled to get free from Niou’s hold, but his mind only came up blank. He remember Tezuka being bony, so that would have made him a terribly cuddler. Probably. Too lanky with too many sharp edges, just like Niou.

Not that Niou would ever find out, now.

Niou did learn something out of his whole hiking experience fiasco. He had to have been fearless and able to relent to the inevitability of life, if he could face nature like that. Niou imagined Tezuka fighting off shitty weather and (possibly) hungry bears. Tezuka radiating a sense of security and calmness as he asserted control over the situation. Niou’s heart fluttered at the thought, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have minded all that lankiness, and sharp edges after all.

 

 

 

Niou slept through a fever that night. He spent most of the next day staring at the broken heater in the corner.

 

 

 

Fishing was boring. Catching fish depended on whether they were hungry and stupid enough to bite on his bait. And then it became frustrating because you had to tug the line just at the right time when they bit, otherwise they ran off with the bait. Then, once you caught them, you needed to whack their head quickly, or they flopped out of your hands and straight back into the water (Niou learned that the hard way–fucking slithering shits). Too much hassle, too few rewards. People said that fishing helped in developing patience and perseverance. Niou thought it was for people that had nothing better to do and had a kink for frustration. Honestly, Niou would much prefer to just go around the corner and buy the damned fishes in a store. Better yet, on a plate with soy sauce and rice by the side.

Fishing and Niou didn’t get along; it was annoying and the silence was too loud.

Niou dropped the rod and flopped onto the grass. The sun was high and unforgiving above him. Niou shielded his eyes with his forearm and sighed at the prickling sensation of the sunlight on his skin.

 

 

 

Niou ended up catching one fish. It was small and definitely not worth the three hours he had spent by the lake. He stared at it, sitting on the plate. It wasn’t as glamorous as the German magazines had made it out to be, and Niou had just grilled it on his stove with some salt and pepper, since he was too tired and annoyed to do anything else. But, when Niou took a bite, he thought that maybe he could understand why people (Tezuka) liked fishing. There was something savagely satisfying in feeding yourself, in tasting the fruits of your hard work and effort.

Niou was perfectly aware that sounded like bullshit. Maybe Tezuka just did it to get tanned.

 

(The little fish tasted like heaven, though).

 

 

 

Niou didn’t want to cash in his favor with Marui, from that time at the club with the compromising videos, just to hunt down the old man that had appeared with Tezuka in the photographs. Apparently, the ‘Toastka’ ran in the family. It was probably useless looking for him, because for all Niou knew the man could be already dead and he would therefore lose a very valuable resource of information (and/or blackmail opportunity) on nothing. So, Niou did the second-best thing, to fulfill the second-to-last item of his list.

Stepping on his cigarette to put it out, Niou ran a hand through his hair before entering the white building. He scribbled his name in the visiting book at the reception and asked the right questions to the pretty receptionist. He was vaguely surprised that after all the years he hadn’t come, that old lady was still in the same room.

He walked in silence, hating the whiteness of the walls and the helplessness of its inhabitants and the overall abandonment that could be palpably felt in the walls. Niou’s grandmother was in the last room to the left.

The door was open and the old woman was sitting on her chair, facing the window, and Niou felt himself smiling beside himself.

“Ba-chan,” he said in a singsong voice. Niou was perfectly aware his grandmother was a bit insane (they all were in his family), and that she didn’t remember much about them. Niou couldn’t blame her. If he was left in a fucking care home to rot, he would forget the bastards that did it, too. The woman turned around,raising her eyebrow, as if to challenge the newcomer coming to tell her off about the (forbidden) cigarettes in her mouth. Niou smirked a little, she had always been pretty badass; smoked like a chimney, swore like a sailor and defended her family like a wolf. Of all of the members of Niou’s family, he guessed he liked her the most. She seemed to recognize Niou though, and laughed and patted the windowsill next to her, for him to take a seat.

Niou did so and waited with bated breath.

“You came to visit, Masaharu. It’s been a while.”

Niou shrugged, because it was true but he didn’t want to admit it out loud. It had been over two years since his last visit. There was something upsetting about hugging your grandmother with the same arms that strangled people for cash. It was tacky, even for Niou.

“I’m glad. What have you been doing, my child?”

Niou swallowed hard. Where he should start? The being a hitman part or the stabbing his soulmate to death part?

“Hiking and fishing.”

“Sounds boring as fuck.”

Niou laughed out loud.

“Oh, ba-chan, you don’t have a fucking idea.”

 

 

 

Niou left the nursing home a couple of hours later, a stupid grin on his face and a warmth inside him that threatened to set his insides on fire.

 

 

 

Niou spent several hours checking Tezuka’s school records. He had been a model student since like daycare and had been on the student council from middle school to university. Tezuka had been a prodigy in law and many law firms had been really interested in taking him in. Obviously, he signed with the biggest, most well-renowned one. But, after revising some of the cases Tezuka had taken the lead on, they were all shit. Divorces, custodies over _dogs_ , some property issues and disputes over wills. He won all of them but for all the surprising records Tezuka had had under his belt, they had been way below his abilities.

Niou growled under his breath, he could see it perfectly. Big fat shitheads that thought that they ruled the law business, sweet talking a fresh, new prodigy to slave it away with meaningless cases and therefore, not worrying about another firm using him to win clients over. Niou didn’t doubt in the slightest that Tezuka had been paid some big money, but at what cost?

The last case Tezuka took under his wing had been a protest made by of a group of families that lived by one of the rivers in a nearby city. They had claimed the rivers had been poisoned, killing fish and causing kids and elderly to become sick. Tezuka had done his magic, and the company responsible for the damaged had had to restore the damage, paying a compensation large enough to help the people to recover from the problem they caused. It had been a clean case: the fine didn’t even make a dent for the fucking filthy rich company and the people got justice.

Turned out to be, the aggravated company’s owner was the brother-in-law of the founder of the firm Tezuka worked for. Needless to say, the company was one of the biggest clients of the firm. Tezuka had picked the case without knowing it, just doing his job, and nobody had really paid attention to him.

Neither the Firm nor the Company had been happy with how things had turned out. Firing a law prodigy after winning a social justice case was bad publicity.

It had been an easy decision, Niou’s paycheck didn’t even make a dent for the fucking filthy rich company and both companies got _’justice’_.

Tezuka didn’t.

 

 

 

Niou did end up asking Marui to do him a favor, two days after that. He asked him to hunt down two names, a location and the best hour to have the deal done. Niou really disliked he was forced to take on contract killing.

But it was okay, he was going to do this for _free_.

 

 

 

Niou took a deep drag from his cigarette, let the smoke fill his lungs.

It was okay. He was okay.

(He wasn’t).

But he had made up his mind, and that’s what mattered.

He entered a phone booth and leaned against the glass, as he looked for some spare change in the front pocket of his pants. He ignored how tacky the coins were with blood. His hands were shaking so badly, that it was frankly a miracle that he pushed the right buttons on the first try.

“Hello?”

Niou swallowed hard and licked his lips.

“Help me. Yags. _Please_.”

 

 

 

 

In a deserted storehouse, Yagyuu shot Niou in the chest three times and disposed of the body.

 

 

 

“One Latte please, double coffee shot, lactose-free milk….”

“No sugar, gotcha.” The barista said with a small smile. “The usual. I wonder if I should I add regular milk this time? To _spice_ things up?”

“Jesus…,” The customer huffed annoyed.

“Jesus is too formal, you may call me ‘Hideyoshi’. It’s on my name tag!” The barista chirped happily as he turned around and fixed the drink quickly. “It will be 250yen.”

The customer frowned slightly.

“250yen, please _sir_ ”

The customer smirked a little and put the money on the counter. And a 1000yen bill as a tip.  
“I can take a break now, let me wake up my boss and I’ll see you in the alley, ‘kay?” The barista whispered hurriedly, leaning forwards before disappearing behind a wooden door. He appeared two minutes later, dragging a mess of blond hair and sleepy eyes, sat him down on the cashier stall, looking way too sleepy for someone who _owned_ a coffee shop. The blond man waved, before going limp on the register and starting to snore.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Let’s go.”

They left to the alley behind the shop and after making sure there were no prying eyes in the vicinity, the customer hugged the barista tightly.

“You are fucking squeezing me, Yagyuu,” Niou said out of breath, but didn’t try to pull away.

“Niou, I’m so—“

“Shut it. We’ve been through this. You don’t need to apologize every time. It’s been three months. If anything, you fucking saved my life. Also it’s ‘Hideyoshi’ now, don’t fuck up here.”

 

It had turned out better than he anticipated, to be honest. When he had killed those motherfuckers that had paid to kill Tezuka, Niou had been ready to die by the two bodyguards still left alive, a miscalculation on his part. But, he’d been ready. If he was to die, he would take them with him. For Tezuka.

In the end, he had managed to kill them both, four messy killings that made the front page on newspapers and a nice long spotlight in the evening news on the television. But then, after the job was done, Niou had felt empty and alone. It was so deep and strong and he had felt like he was suffocating. He tried to take his own life, to die on his own terms before someone came and stabbed him on the back, but then he saw the letters inked on his flesh.

_I let my guard down_

And then Niou was hit by a realization so strong, it left him breathless. _He_ had let his guard down and then Tezuka had come like a wrecking ball. Tezuka’s ghost was such a blatant part of the life he was learning to live. In two weeks of following his footsteps, he had lived more enjoyably, than in the last two years of being a hitman. Tezuka’s death had breathed life into Niou’s life. Niou decided he wasn’t ready to die after all and he had chosen life.

The catch was that you just didn’t quit being a hitman. You did too much, you knew too much and it was risky letting your employees go rogue. Niou had known The Child Of God would come for him, sooner rather than later. So he’d planned ahead.

 

“Asshole. That doesn’t take away the fact I shot you. What if I missed?”

“But you didn’t. That’s why I asked you to do it. Any other fucker after the Child of God’s ransom, would have shot me right on the face and not into the bulletproof vest.”

Yagyuu made a face. “They have no class at all, really. At least your death was very aesthetically pleasing on video.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Yagyuu let Niou go and took a deep breath. Niou patted him on the back. Yagyuu offered him a cigarette but Niou shook his head.

“Can’t, Jirou’s allergic to the smell.” Niou shrugged, not really trying to hide a smile.

“That’s a pretty sight. It’s been a long time since I saw you smile. How is it now?”

“It’s hard, really fucking hard. Not being able to smoke, the pay is shit and I hate dealing with assholes the whole day, but it's a start I guess,” Niou said, leaning against the alley’s wall. Yagyuu drank his coffee silently.

“And… how are you?”

Niou rubbed his wrist, where Tezuka’s last works were written forever, and smiled a little. He was a work in progress. There was so much to do still, so much to amend for, after several years of walking a very questionable path, but Niou felt confident. And maybe that was what having a soulmate was about. He knew he wasn’t alone now. He had the drive to achieve his goals now, some memories to hold onto and a bonsai tree to take care of.

“I’m not okay, but I’m sure I will be.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
